


The True Love ‘tween Maid and Maid*

by Grondfic



Category: As You Like It - Shakespeare, Hamlet - Shakespeare
Genre: F/F, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-29 08:52:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15726057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grondfic/pseuds/Grondfic
Summary: Scene: The Forest of ArdenRosalind rescues someone from a stream. A dialogue ensues.





	1. The Narrative

**Fandom** : Shakespeare, _Hamlet_ , _As You Like It_ crossover.  
**Pairing** : Rosalind/Ophelia  
**Rating** : R  
**WARNINGS** : Femslash  
**Disclaimer** : This is a work of fiction. Any/all rights reserved. 

**Scene: The Forest of Arden**

_Rosalind (in Ganymede disguise): Why, child, whatever are you doing in the stream? And fully-clothed too?_

_Ophelia: I sing, good sir. And speak flower-language. Alack, my blooms are scattered all.  
Rosalind: Here, let me help you out. Fortune grants a fair day; but you’ll take cold soon enow an you divest not those clothes. Come – our cottage is not far; you may borrow some women’s weeds from my sister-cuz._

_Ophelia:_ ♪ ♫ For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy ... ♫ ♪

_Rosalind: What a beautiful voice you have. Why do you speak flower-language?_

_Ophelia: Because-because-because flowers comfort me. Though some withered when my father died. They say he made a good end._

_Rosalind: How did he die?_

_Ophelia: My ex-boyfriend ran him through with a sword._

_Rosalind: Lord a mercy! How you must rue the day ....._

_Ophelia: There’s rue for you too; although you ALREADY wear your rue with a difference!_

_Rosalind: What in the world could you mean?_

_Ophelia: You are not what you seem._

_Rosalind: However did you penetrate my disguise? None of the silly men around here have any idea!_

_Ophelia: They very rarely do, in my experience._

_Rosalind: How perceptive you appear, in your bewildered wisdom! But you shiver – what was I thinking? – we must free you from those wet clothes straight._

_Ophelia: I would not allow such freedoms were we not of the same kind._

_Rosalind: Why child, you’re thin as a stripped willow wand! Did no one feed you whilst they ran round on their killing spree?_

_Ophelia: I eat the air, promise-crammed. There’s fennel. And rue ...._

_Rosalind: No more of that!_

_Ophelia: Alack, my life is all rue._ The running running rue; t’is the rue has ruined me.... _**_

_Rosalind: Hush now – dry your hair with this; and the rest of you with these._

_Ophelia: I’m not a baby; only a maid at your window, to be your Valentine._

_Rosalind: Do you not know I am a woman? But, Sweet, say on!_

_Ophelia: We know what we are but we know not what we may be._

_Rosalind: What may we be?_

_Ophelia: Lovers?_

_Rosalind: I have a lover; or will do, soon._

_Ophelia: And I had one, once. So here we stand; poised atween past and future, ourselves alone. Sure, desire might flare, burn bright within this small eternity; this timeless time?_

_Rosalind: Why, maid, how froward you be, after all!_

_Ophelia: T’is but my lunacy that speaks. It dallies not but when the moon is full._

_Rosalind: It borrows well the cloak of Reason; and turns time to naught most prettily._

_Ophelia: My madness thanks you most heartily, upon my soul it does._

_Rosalind: Take you more care, mistress! Those cloths slip earthward. Allow me to retrieve them._

_Ophelia: Hold hold!_

_Rosalind:_ “I am not dead”?*** __

_Ophelia: Y’re not! So, being quick enow, yourself your own unneeded clothes must shed; nor tender me mine own again._

_Rosalind: You are resolved on this?_

_Ophelia: Most certainly._

_Rosalind: Well; an I indulge you thus, pray tell to me your name._

_Ophelia: T’is Ophelia, so please you. And thus I seal it sweetly with a kiss..._

_Rosalind: Most sweet in truth. And you are ripe for sport. Come hither ‘gainst this mighty trunk that spreads its dappled shade o’er all our play..._

_Ophelia: Then doff at least that flow’ry doublet straight, and join me in this umbrous, languorous joy! But soft – what’s this appended to the tree? It discommodes my back –_ ‘From the east to western Ind, no jewel is like Rosalind’ ... *****

_Rosalind: Verses addressed to my female self!_

_Ophelia: Then you are she. Give you good day; and more kisses an you approach me near._

_Rosalind: .. and so, and thus, I dare it..._

_Ophelia: Aaaaah, you dare indeed. Venture further, pray you, sweet discoverer!_

_Rosalind: What, southwards?_

_Ophelia: Soft and sweet are the mountains of the south._

_Rosalind: They are indeed; most fresh and fragrant. Delicate to handle, resplendent, and respondent to touch, unfurling ‘gainst my palms..... luscious on the tongue, dilating ‘twixt my lips..._

_Ophelia: Ahhh ... all is so ... opened. So simple a ploy, and yet depthless in impression. Do but license my palms, my lips to the like freedoms at your excellent white bosom; and you too shall know this rapture._

_Rosalind: Shall I then? Pray dearling, do your will._

_Ophelia:_ “He,” - _nay indeed! – “ She_ that sweetest rose will find, must find love's prick, and Rosalind.”....... _****_

_Rosalind: Oh wicked! Two meanings ‘neath one naughty word. An adder’s tongue to ... ahhh .... tend my deep desires ....... one inch of delay more is ..... insupportable!_

_Ophelia: Who’s froward now, sweet girl?_

_Rosalind: Prithee – prevaricate no more. Nor yet tease, tantalise and torment me neither. Just do it!_

_Ophelia: Ah, impatience be thy name! So ... thus ... and thus .... my sweet contrivance finds thy mettle unimproved; and therefore proves it .. thus ... again._

_Rosalind: Thy tides break high upon my famished shores, sweet lady of the streams._

_Ophelia: There’s power in’t, surpassing all the love of man._

_Rosalind: I’ll not dispute thy knowledge; but must grant my stumping-footed poet his fair chance._

_Ophelia: Then, lady; thus I leave thee to enjoy thy future-fortunes. Here I take my destin’d path. For this relief, much thanks._

_Rosalind: Sweet girl, where willt thou go?_

_Ophelia: Elsewhere ..... Before we part, a word unto the wise. If one should come announcing harm to thy loved one, pray do not swoon. Lose thy wits instead – ‘tis merrier so!_

_Rosalind: Swoon? I swoon? Sooner shall these green leaves brown untimely – trust me for that. And so, farewell sweet maid. Take thy road and may fortune smile.........._

_..... s’ blood, girl - NOT back into the stream! Ophelia...... !!!_


	2. The Narrative - with Spoilers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story BEHIND the story of Ophelia and Rosalind.

**Spoiler 1**

**Fandom** : Shakespeare, _Hamlet_ , _As You Like It_ crossover. And RP fic.  
**Pairings** : In the Spoilers Sections – Jack Laskey/Shubham Saraf (playing, respectively, Rosalind in AYLI, and Ophelia in H)  
**Rating** : R  
**Warnings** : In the Spoilers Sections – real people slash  
**Disclaimer** : This is a work of fiction. Real life it is not; although the protagonists in these Spoilers Sections are versions of the real actors who are currently playing Rosalind and Ophelia as members of the Globe Ensemble in the plays at The Globe Theatre, London.

 **Scene** : The empty stage of The Globe Theatre; currently set-up as a forest-glade, its two pillars swathed in green ‘moss’. The two actors who are playing gender-neutral roles in a tandem of Shakespeare-plays have arranged a special ‘rehearsal’ the better to explore their respective roles in the two plays, together. Shubham is playing Ophelia in _Hamlet_ , and Jack, Rosalind in _As You Like It_.

****  
“How are we going to get them together?” asks Jack, “In case you haven’t noticed, Denmark and the Forest of Arden aren’t exactly contiguous!”

“Big word!” notes Shubham admiringly.

“Fuck off!” Jack elbows Shubham playfully, “And my point remains!”

“Pfft to your point! We’re in rehearsal, aren’t we? So we throw the girls together, in character, without any external reference point. The whys and wherefores might come out during the interaction – don’t you think?”

Jack sniffs.

“I prefer a framework if we’re going to plunge into a situation,” he objects.

“Alright, let me think ...’’

“You embody meditation so WELL!”

“Quiet! Woodland ... banks of sweet primeroses .... _’.. there is a willow grows aslant a brook’_ ..... How about this: Rosalind – as Ganymede - fishes a dripping wet Ophelia out of a stream in Arden before she sinks irrevocably ... “

“Big word to you there!” ripostes Jack, continuing hastily (in case of reprisals), “But yes, we could work with that scenario .... ‘’

****

**Scene: The Forest of Arden**

_Rosalind (in Ganymede disguise): Why, child, whatever are you doing in the stream? And fully-clothed too?_

_Ophelia: I sing, good sir. And speak flower-language. Alack, my blooms are scattered all.  
Rosalind: Here, let me help you out. Fortune grants a fair day; but you’ll take cold soon enow an you divest not those clothes. Come – our cottage is not far; you may borrow some women’s weeds from my sister-cuz._

_Ophelia:_ ♪ ♫ For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy ... ♫ ♪

_Rosalind: What a beautiful voice you have. Why do you speak flower-language?_

_Ophelia: Because-because-because flowers comfort me. Though some withered when my father died. They say he made a good end._

_Rosalind: How did he die?_

_Ophelia: My ex-boyfriend ran him through with a sword._

_Rosalind: Lord a mercy! How you must rue the day ....._

_Ophelia: There’s rue for you too; although you ALREADY wear your rue with a difference!_

_Rosalind: What in the world could you mean?_

_Ophelia: You are not what you seem._

_Rosalind: However did you penetrate my disguise? None of the silly men around here have any idea!_

_Ophelia: They very rarely do, in my experience._

_Rosalind: How perceptive you appear, in your bewildered wisdom! But you shiver – what was I thinking? – we must free you from those wet clothes straight._

_Ophelia: I would not allow such freedoms were we not of the same kind._

_Rosalind: Why child, you’re thin as a stripped willow wand! Did no one feed you whilst they ran round on their killing spree?_

_Ophelia: I eat the air, promise-crammed. There’s fennel. And rue ...._

_Rosalind: No more of that!_

_Ophelia: Alack, my life is all rue._ The running running rue; t’is the rue has ruined me.... _**_

_Rosalind: Hush now – dry your hair with this; and the rest of you with these._

_Ophelia: I’m not a baby; only a maid at your window, to be your Valentine._

_Rosalind: Do you not know I am a woman? But, Sweet, say on!_

_Ophelia: We know what we are but we know not what we may be._

_Rosalind: What may we be?_

_Ophelia: Lovers?_

_Rosalind: I have a lover; or will do, soon._

_Ophelia: And I had one, once. So here we stand; poised atween past and future, ourselves alone. Sure, desire might flare, burn bright within this small eternity; this timeless time?_

**Spoiler 2**

“Where are we taking this, Shubs?” asks Jack, a trifle uneasily.

Shubham, who is down now to just a small towel around his trim waist, widens his eyes in a perfect parody of innocent enquiry.

“Why, just taking the impro to its logical conclusion, Jack.”

“Alright, but can I just remind you that we’re here onstage; that this isn’t a regular rehearsal; and that a tour-group is due to gather in the auditorium just before midday.”

“Better get a move on, then; and be ready to dash backstage if we miss our cue!”

*** 

_Rosalind: Why, maid, how froward you be, after all!_

_Ophelia: T’is but my lunacy that speaks. It dallies not but when the moon is full._

_Rosalind: It borrows well the cloak of Reason; and turns time to naught most prettily._

_Ophelia: My madness thanks you most heartily, upon my soul it does._

_Rosalind: Take you more care, mistress! Those cloths slip earthward. Allow me to retrieve them._

_Ophelia: Hold hold!_

_Rosalind:_ “I am not dead”?*** __

_Ophelia: Y’re not! So, being quick enow, yourself your own unneeded clothes must shed; nor tender me mine own again._

_Rosalind: You are resolved on this?_

_Ophelia: Most certainly._

_Rosalind: Well; an I indulge you thus, pray tell to me your name._

_Ophelia: T’is Ophelia, so please you. And thus I seal it sweetly with a kiss..._

_Rosalind: Most sweet in truth. And you are ripe for sport. Come hither ‘gainst this mighty trunk that spreads its dappled shade o’er all our play..._

_Ophelia: Then doff at least that flow’ry doublet straight, and join me in this umbrous, languorous joy! But soft – what’s this appended to the tree? It discommodes my back –_ ‘From the east to western Ind, no jewel is like Rosalind’ ... *****

_Rosalind: Verses addressed to my female self!_

_Ophelia: Then you are she. Give you good day; and more kisses an you approach me near._

_Rosalind: .. and so, and thus, I dare it..._

_Ophelia: Aaaaah, you dare indeed. Venture further, pray you, sweet discoverer!_

_Rosalind: What, southwards?_

_Ophelia: Soft and sweet are the mountains of the south._

_Rosalind: They are indeed; most fresh and fragrant. Delicate to handle, resplendent, and respondent to touch, unfurling ‘gainst my palms..... luscious on the tongue, dilating ‘twixt my lips..._

_Ophelia: Ahhh ... all is so ... opened. So simple a ploy, and yet depthless in impression. Do but license my palms, my lips to the like freedoms at your excellent white bosom; and you too shall know this rapture._

_Rosalind: Shall I then? Pray dearling, do your will._

_Ophelia:_ “He,” - _nay indeed! – “ She_ that sweetest rose will find, must find love's prick, and Rosalind.”....... _****_

_Rosalind: Oh wicked! Two meanings ‘neath one naughty word. An adder’s tongue to ... ahhh .... tend my deep desires ....... one inch of delay more is ..... insupportable!_

_Ophelia: Who’s froward now, sweet girl?_

_Rosalind: Prithee – prevaricate no more. Nor yet tease, tantalise and torment me neither. Just do it!_

_Ophelia: Ah, impatience be thy name! So ... thus ... and thus .... my sweet contrivance finds thy mettle unimproved; and therefore proves it .. thus ... again._

_Rosalind: Thy tides break high upon my famished shores, sweet lady of the streams._

_Ophelia: There’s power in’t, surpassing all the love of man._

_Rosalind: I’ll not dispute thy knowledge; but must grant my stumping-footed poet his fair chance._

_Ophelia: Then, lady; thus I leave thee to enjoy thy future-fortunes. Here I take my destin’d path. For this relief, much thanks._

_Rosalind: Sweet girl, where willt thou go?_

_Ophelia: Elsewhere ..... Before we part, a word unto the wise. If one should come announcing harm to thy loved one, pray do not swoon. Lose thy wits instead – ‘tis merrier so!_

_Rosalind: Swoon? I swoon? Sooner shall these green leaves brown untimely – trust me for that. And so, farewell sweet maid. Take thy road and may fortune smile.........._

_..... s’ blood, girl - NOT back into the stream! Ophelia...... !!!_

****

**Spoiler 3**

“WHY Ophelia? Why are you doing that?”

“I’ve made my mind up. I took to that stream from the willow, with those flowers by way of my own funeral wreaths. It was the most positive decision I’ve ever made. I thought you knew that!”

“Well, I’m going to hang on to you .... “

There’s a short tussle, which Shubham ends suddenly by ceasing his struggles and standing limp under Jack’s restraining hands.

“.....OK, Jack, you can let me go now.”

Jack blinks in the sunlight, shakes his head sluggishly, and steps uncertainly away from Shubham, who continues -

“It’s nearly midday. Unless we want to do an encore with an appreciative audience, we should move backstage immediately.”

“Christ - I can hear voices! Let’s get out of here,” yelps Jack, coming back to the here-and-now with an unpleasantly nauseous rush.

Shubham, who is scurrying around the stage gathering scattered items of clothing, makes a muffled sound of assent; and exits running, through one of the small side-doors. Jack follows, just as the midday tour-group straggles into the auditorium.

“That was close!” Shubham’s voice is muffled as he pulls his still-halfway-buttoned shirt over his head, “Are you OK?”

“Came out of the zone too quick,” gulps Jack, “Excuse me, I must ...... “

He dodges through the doorway leading via a narrow corridor to the Gents just behind the shop in the foyer. He’s hoping that, with the tour-crowd in the auditorium, the loos will be quieter. His main aim is to deal expeditiously with his by-now quite painful erection. He needs to finish this off; get a completion on the rather intense scenario that he and Shubham built up between them. 

The place appears deserted when Jack enters; so he decides to utilise one of the generous number of cubicles provided for the male theatregoing public. He hurriedly plonks himself on the closed loo-seat, rolling britches and underpants to his ankles as he does so.

He’s so tense to begin with, that although he grabs at himself, pumping hard, he can elicit no immediate response. He feels only the grappling of skin on skin; and a slight tenderness or tightness elsewhere, across his chest. He spits into his fist and, breathing heavily, tries again.

It’s easier now. He can establish a rhythm and escalate it. Tension in chest and belly; tendon and muscle; builds to insufferable. He groans and lets go; and suddenly everything is fine. Lights burst and scintillate behind his squeezed-shut eyelids; and he lets out an audible, attenuated sigh of relief.

****

Shubham pulls his clothes into decent tidiness, and follows Jack at a more leisurely pace – scurrying through the auditorium, across the piazza, into the foyer, and past the shop behind which the Gents are situated. 

The place appears deserted when Shubham enters; so he decides to utilise the facilities before he tries to find where Jack has gone. 

He’s just washing his hands when he becomes aware of some untoward sounds emanating from the furthest cubicle. He’s about to call and check the user’s wellbeing, when he realises what he’s just heard; so instead, exits quietly and waits outside.

Jack comes out a few minutes later, looking flushed and edgy. He greets Shubham without making eye-contact; his whole body radiating embarrassment and dismay.

“Oh,” he says unenthusiastically, “It was you.”

“You OK, Jack?”

“Fine, fine, thanks. Well I ... should be off, I suppose ... “

“At least come and get some coffee - you look like you need some. The cafe should have space right now. Besides – we need to .. to debrief, don’t you think?”

“Not sure I’m ready for that,” admits Jack, “But coffee ... yeah, I guess.”

“Good! I might go for one of their cakes too. I’m starving.”

Jack, following Shubham past the shop and down into the main foyer, discovers that he’s desperately hungry too.

****

“That tree-pillar has a wonderful texture with all the fake moss,” observes Jack, biting into his second chocolate salted-caramel brownie. 

“I’d like to have... hmm ... done more around it,” agrees Shubham cautiously.

Jack, who has recovered some coffee-related equanimity, takes the plunge

“We should resolve things now as ourselves! I think I might be ready after all.”

Shubham sighs.

“That was amazingly intense, considering we neither of us touched one another below the waist,” he says thoughtfully, “It really FELT like I was a girl.”

“Hmm. Listen, Shubs, I’m sorry was being a wuss. It’s just ... I HAD to rush off and finish myself off – get some sort of completion.”

“Well,” says Shubham slowly, “I DID get completion back there.”

Jack recalls the quite prominent tenting of the small towel.

“You came? Onstage?” he queries, a trifle disbelievingly.

“There was,” says Shubham, thinking it out as he speaks, “A climax; but somewhere different. A headfuck? No ..” he frowns in concentration, “.. that word has a negative meaning, usually. Spine? Cranium? I dunno.”

“Well, I just got very aroused!” announces Jack fretfully.

“That’s good too,” concedes Shubham.

“But less .. convenient than your headfuck.”

“Perhaps.”

There’s a pause, whilst they both bury their faces in the wide coffee-cups.

“You came up with some good lines there,” says Jack stiffly, “Very Shakespearean.”

“Except when they WERE Shakespeare. Or bits of ballads,” says Shubham self-deprecatingly, “I liked your use of ‘ _froward_ ’ – very apposite.”

“It cast a whole new aspect on the thing, though,” says Jack, frowning slightly, “when you told me you ... she’d always had her intention set on suicide. That would make our .... their scene, one final ... I dunno .... pleasure? Reaching-out?... on Ophelia’s part?”

“A last elegy,” replies Shubham dreamily, “Maybe her only chance at physical intimacy ...? depending on what she and Hamlet .... “ 

“Not in OUR production,” says Jack laughing.

“No,” agrees Shubham, “how did Rosalind feel about it all?”

Jack bites his lip.

“It’s more about me and you, Shubs,” he admits, “It feels like unfinished business now.”

“Ahh,” Shubham ponders awhile, “Are you amenable to a suggestion?”

“Go on!”

“Alright. I play Oliver in _As You Like It_ , you play Fortinbras in _Hamlet_. Let’s book the stage again soon, and run a scene where Oliver gets sent to Elsinore, post-play, on a diplomatic mission from the Duke ..... What do you think?”

Jack’s eyes sparkle.

“So Fortinbras gets to run the show? Yes, I think I’d be up for that!”

“Deal,” says Shubham, reflecting privately that Real Life might happen afterwards anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here are some links to pictures of the two actors in role; as well as of the stage, set-up as I envisaged for this scene:
> 
>  **Jack** :  
> https://www.timeout.com/london/theatre/as-you-like-it-review
> 
>  **Shubham**  
>  https://goo.gl/images/jrz7HW
> 
>  **Stage**  
>  https://peterviney.wordpress.com/stage/the-two-noble-kinsmen-2018/

**Author's Note:**

> *The title is taken from _The Two Noble Kinsmen_ by Shakespeare and Fletcher  
> **A line from one version of the folksong _I Sowed the Seeds of Love_  
>  *** _Hold,hold, I am not dead_ An apocryphal line summing up the revised ending of _King Lear_ by Nahum Tate.  
>  ****These are verses written to Rosalind in AYLI. The first is by Orlando who hangs it and many like it, on trees in Arden; and the second, a rather suggestive parody, mocking Orlando’s efforts, by Touchstone


End file.
